It is hard to believe that the interpretation of quantum mechanics is still controversial, but it is. I think part of the problem is that it can be hard to get rid of bad ideas. If a bad idea gets read and written faster than the brains that lie between those steps educate themselves, the idea just keeps reverberating. Take for example the idea of “wave function collapse”. A bunch of people believe, who knows why, that somewhere between their brain and a system they are measuring, something magical happens that converts that system from what it is (quantum) to what they’d like it to be (classical). It is hard to understand why this idea is so popular. The math of how a quantum system evolves is perfectly simple, and doesn’t need this voodoo. We know that if we take a system of 1000 particles that are in a superposition of two particular states, and then throw away one of the particles somewhere where we won’t find it again, the remaining 999 particles will act just like they are now either in one of the states or the other. We go from something strange (superposition) to normal (probability) just by losing control of one particle. The same thing would happen if we just had uncontrolled interactions between the particles and their environment. This “quantum decoherence” is real magic; it plays by rules that are simple, obvious, and very easy to understand step by step, yet it still manages to do something amazing. At the time of writing, Wikipedia claims this idea is winning. I hope so.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, but would like to, do yourself a favor. Pick up a textbook and learn how to use the partial trace. Forget all the words people have been spouting and just look at the math. Then draw your own conclusion. I think you’ll find it’s very clear what’s going on.

Our horde of rampaging penguins just got a face lift. Because just because you’re in a horde of slaveringly insatiable waterfowl, doesn’t mean you can’t look good.

Your priorities in life are all wrong. Your language reflects that. Read this summary of Lapine, and reflect on what really matters. Lapine is the language of rabbits, as constructed by Richard Adams in Watership Down. It has just 56 words, from hlao (”any dimple or depression formed in the grass, such as that formed by a daisy plant or a thistle, which can hold moisture”) to Thethuthinang (”name of a doe who lived in Efrafa”). Are you that clear on what matters to you? Do you know what your 56 words are?

Consider celtic pasta, a fusion of Italian-Irishness, sumptuous shades of green, white, and orangey-red; fiery, infuriating, yet smoothly seductive. Sounds delicious. I want some. Yet, as far as I know, it doesn’t exist. I know I shouldn’t be personally offended by market failure, but I am. Market failure, you’ve let me down once too often. Not to mention that wandering hand of yours — you’ve never realized that just because its invisible doesn’t mean I can’t feel it. So long, I just can’t bear your bull no more.

If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me “how do I leverage my architecture?”, and I leveraged those nickels, I would have a whole lot of leverages. So let me clear this up for once and for all. An architecture is a framework. Creating a framework involves just two steps: picking the right frame, and doing some work. But just as the quality of a picture doesn’t depend just on its frame, but also on what it depicts, we must remember that the value of an architecture lies not just in its abstractions, but also in its instantiation. Got that? And to leverage it, well, just verb it and add some acrobatics. You know what I mean, bandy about phrases like “walking the tightrope of business architecting.” Works for me, and I’m allegedly the CEO of something or other.

It has been 15 years now since “The Noodle that Knew Remorse” came out. In that time, a lot has changed in the world. But the core insight of the Noodle remains valid: pasta plus passion equals drama. Try offering a bouquet of spaghetti to your loved one on Valentine’s day and you’ll see what I mean.

For those who haven’t read the Noodle (for shame!), here’s a review (full disclosure: the Broken Plank is a Dalek Bell holding):

Life. We don’t talk about it much but everyone knows it is there. Lurking. A shadowy figure that infiltrates every fiber of our being. But what do we really know about it?

This is the subject matter of Dalek Bell’s greatest novel, “The Noodle that Knew Remorse.” In this epic, Bell uses the metaphor of a thousand rampaging elephants for life. Frightening. Massively powerful. Perhaps not particularly rational. Something that is liable to pound you into the ground and squish you flat if you stand around analyzing it too long.

This contrasts strikingly with Bell’s metaphor for love, which is a thousand rampaging penguins. His thought processes in this instance are rather trickier to fathom. Perhaps he has a fondness for rampaging penguins, and who could blame him. Certainly, a horde of rampaging penguins unleashed on a major city can be, like love, all-consuming.

“What is this life thing anyway?” - The Broken Plank, 1998

Ever felt there’s something missing from the web? At makesweet.com, we tried to add a little romance to cold, stand-offish html on The Wuv Net. But sometimes, as I pace sleepless through the night in the echoing darkness of one of my more solitary mansions, I think it is not enough. But then I warm my hands on a <blink> tag, stare into its eternal, regular depths, and I feel at peace again.

I’ve been receiving a lot of emails from would-be bloggers asking how it is possible to have an output as prodigious as mine. First, it has to be said, some people are just born with a prodigious output. If you don’t have it, there’s really nothing to be done (no matter what certain spam advertising campaigns would have you believe). But second, if you want output, you have to make noise. Consider P. G. Wodehouse’s book, the “Clicking of Cuthbert” (or, in American, “Golf Without Tears”). I’m not familiar with cuthberts, but I believe they are a kind of English golf club that makes a distinctive “clicking” noise when you hit a good true shot down the fairway. And it is the same with blogging. If you hear that distinctive “clicking” noise, the pitter-patter of tiny keys as it were, the you are probably doing something right. Wodehouse knows best.

I’m often asked the secret of my success. At least I assume that’s what people are asking me, I rarely listen. I’ve found that, when it comes to business, it pays to have a global perspective. The idea that works for you could come from anywhere. Take for example “Kaizen”, the Japanese notion of continuous improvement, as practiced by Toyota and others. Complete bunk. What if to improve you need to get worse for a while? What if to improve you need to get worse for years? I prefer the Italian practice of “Magari”, which is a word that means “maybe” except without the same level of commitment. It expresses a kind of wistful desire that something might possibly someday happen, although you’re pretty sure it won’t (if you’ve ever worked in Italy, you understand this feeling). I find that a business that follows the principles of “Magari” has the kind of flexibility and might-do attitude that can just about get by until being accidentally bought-out through confusion with a real company with a similar name. Worked for me!

I didn’t believe them. My people kept coming to me with charts and spreadsheets, but I would push them away. I just couldn’t, in my heart, truly believe there was a market for adopting a horde of rampaging penguins. Well, the sales reports just came in, and how wrong I was.

I still don’t understand it though. I mean, don’t get me wrong, penguins are cute, some of my best friends are penguins, I see the attraction there as much as the next guy, but come on. These penguins are hungry!

I guess the only lesson to draw from this is, sometimes I’m an idiot. I don’t really like that notion though, so I’ll obscure it behind some vague motivational prose about having faith in “the team”. That’s right, I should have more trust in my unerring ability to pick good people. That sounds a lot better…